Broken Crown Page 2

  “Sure.” I lick my lips.

  That’s like asking someone to enjoy a root canal.

  Dad gets up and walks around his desk, then puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Tell me you can do this. Tell me you can not only be my heir but unite the Families. Tell me you won’t rebel… for once in your life.”

  I put my hand on his, my words heavy. “I won’t fail.”

  “Good.” He nods. “Very good.” His footsteps are heavy across the hardwood floor before I hear the door open and him call over his shoulder. “You have five minutes.”

  Five minutes until my life changes forever.

  Five minutes to digest the shame that washes over me in panicked waves like I’m drowning in the ocean.

  Five minutes to come to the conclusion that I will live forever in a loveless marriage and that the one rule you’re given once you say those vows is to never cheat on the woman you’ve sworn to protect.

  And yet I’ll let her do exactly that—because I love her.

  In that single moment, I realize… in five minutes, I’ll be celibate for the rest of my life, however long or short that may be.

  I’ll never laugh over dinner and hold my biological daughter or son close and wonder if they look more like me or more like her.

  Because I can’t. I can’t sleep with her knowing she’s with him.

  So if she gets pregnant, everyone wins.

  And I get to help raise someone else’s son as if he’s my own.

  It’s too heavy to think about.

  I want to vomit.

  Instead, I stare straight ahead at my dad’s chair, knowing one day I’ll fill it and that my sacrifice is for the greater good of the Five—no Six Families.

  It was always going to come down to this, wasn’t it?

  I pulled the short straw.

  I close my eyes. Inhale. Exhale.

  It had to be me.

  Because who else could it be?

  I had a sudden vision of grabbing the invisible crown off my head and setting it on fire. Instead, I feel its weight. I relish the pain. And I breathe.

  I have one minute left.

  I stand.

  I turn and face the door.

  I count my steps.

  And I reach for the knob, taking a reassuring breath and whispering, “Time for my engagement party.”

  Nobody sees the tear that slides down my cheek before I open the door, just like nobody hears the sound of my heart breaking as it slams against the floor.

  I walk out of that room different.

  I will never be the same.

  If I want to survive.

  I can’t be.

  I’m King Campisi.

  And the cross is almost too much to bear.

  Chapter Two

  “Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see.” —Edgar Allan Poe

  Del

  I’m so nervous I want to puke.

  King still hasn’t shown up.

  I know this is one of those days where we have a serious talk about what our future looks like and how things are going to work out. It’s going to get complicated, but he did promise me.

  He promised nothing would change.

  And it was the only promise I needed, that I could still love Roman. Even though I knew we couldn’t get married now, at least I could have him.

  He’d been so pissed when I gave him his ring back, and then he’d cried, gotten drunk, yelled, apologized, then asked if there was any way we could run away together.

  Instead, I ran toward King.

  It was the only way to save my family and the only way to strengthen theirs. Everything was a power play, and we were nothing but pawns in that game.

  I asked my uncle a week ago if I had a choice. He seemed so confused by the question itself that I already knew the answer. As he stared at my left hand, my engagement ring burned on my finger. When my dad died, when my other uncle died, I knew in my soul I would take over my Family.

  Until my last uncle rose up and took the throne.

  Now I’m screwed.

  Now my life is not my own.

  My story is already written.

  I never imagined when I said yes to Roman that I would, a week later, be handing back that small diamond ring and telling him that I couldn’t marry the pauper anymore. No, I was marrying the prince himself.

  Roman had grown up poor; his dad was still working on becoming a made man. We met by accident, Roman and I. We met when I got in a fight with my boyfriend at the time and ran across my yard and tripped, nearly landing headfirst in one of the gorgeous fountains on my father’s property.

  Roman caught me when I stumbled, and I swear my world went into slow motion as he twirled me in his arms and looked down at my face. “Not the intro I was waiting for, but I’ll take it.” He winked.

  And I nearly died.

  He had jet-black hair, the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and his smile was devastating as he set me on my feet and announced, “One day, I’m going to propose to you at this fountain.” He tilted my chin toward him. “And you’re going to say yes.”

  “Who the hell are you?” I jerked back.

  He shrugged. “Your future husband.” Then he held out his arm. “Want to go for a walk?”

  And that was it.

  Literally.

  We saw each other every day after that.

  Until I gave him his ring back.

  His dad recently died, and now Roman was a captain for my family, the Buratti Family, working his way up to a made man and more.

  I am so damn proud of him in his black suit as he stands next to my uncle, staying close just in case someone tries to carry out another ridiculous assassination attempt.

  Lately, it seemed like everyone was trying to kill my family.

  My long-lost uncle was powerful in Sicily, but here in the states? Here people just wanted what he had, which was control over several of the cities in Italy. He had more power than local authorities and all because he cared about the people. But he got hungry.

  So hungry.

  Mom died.

  Dad changed, then died.

  And my uncle? He followed suit.

  Until the final heir rose to the occasion—the uncle that never really gave a shit—and took the crown I was owed. After all that work. All that blood. I still ended up being a pawn in a game I never wanted a part of.

  My uncle suddenly wanted more than cities.

  He wanted it all.

  And there I stood, helping him.

  Taking a ring off my finger and replacing it with a heavier one, because what freaking choice did I have? Do I have?

  Roman looks over at me and nods his head once.

  I jerk my chin toward the bathroom.

  He blinks slowly.

  I don’t need anything but him.

  Nearly falling off my heels, I make my way to the bathroom, open the door, and step inside. Then I close the door and wait for his knock.

  He knocks twice.

  I jerk open the door, grab him, and pull him in, kissing him as he lifts me onto the counter and spreads my legs wide so he can walk between them.

  “I missed you,” I say between kisses.

  “I’m dying for you. Where’s this King guy anyway?”

  “Late.” I kiss him harder. “I know it sounds weird, but you’ll like him. Plus, we came up with a sort of arrangement.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” His grip tightens on my ass, fingers digging in. “You’re mine.”

  “Yours,” I promise. I swear. I speak it out loud, willing it to be true until my voice is hoarse. King is great.

  But Roman is my forever.

  My lips are swollen when we finally stop kissing. I have no lipstick on them anymore but don’t care as we sneak out of the bathroom a few minutes later.

  Roman goes back to my uncle’s side.

  I walk to the bar and grab a glass of wine.

  The room stills as King enters and slowly makes his way thro
ugh the crowd, and he honestly does look like a king in his black suit, clear blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and messy hair. Yeah, he looks like a king you don’t want to piss off, but one you so desperately want to get to know.

  In another life, he would have been perfect for me.

  In another life, I would have been perfect for him.

  I shoot a glance toward Roman, and I know the minute he sees King because his entire demeanor stiffens while his skin pales, as though he’s seen a ghost.

  King smiles at people as he walks through the crowd and finally stops in front of me, towering over me by at least six inches.

  I look up and try not to gasp. He’s almost too striking to be pretty, and yet he’s beautiful in his own terrifying way. He’s like a historical romance novel all in one package, with the way he stands, walks, stares like you can’t tell if he’s entranced or pissed off.

  “Hey,” I whisper.

  He cracks a smile, reaches for my hand, kisses the back of it then says, “Hey.”

  I smile despite my nerves.

  And then he says something I never expected in a million years. “Why don’t we go meet the soon-to-be bride’s new bodyguard?”

  “Sure.” I shrug. “I just assumed it would be a Campisi, maybe Dom.” I frown. “No… Dom has better things to do. Axel? I’d probably drive him crazy and make him—”

  I quit talking when we stop in front of Roman.

  King’s calm and collected as he drops my hand, leans in, kisses my cheek, then whispers, “Be happy, Del.”

  My mouth drops open.

  Roman stiffens, his face blanching to the point it resembles kindergarten paste. “I thought I was guarding some new spoiled princess?”

  King laughs and turns to me. “Is this the part where you raise your hand?”

  I slap him on his ridiculously tight stomach. “Very funny.”

  “Meet your new assignment,” King says to Roman, leveling him with a glare. “She dies, I slit your throat, rip the rest of your head from your body and feed it to the pigs out back.”

  “You guys have pigs?” Del asks.

  “Long story.” He sighs. “Long, long, story.” He swallows and looks between us. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

  I shouldn’t watch him walk away, but I do.

  Because he just gave me a rare gift.

  My freedom.

  But at the cost of him walking into that prison cell, turning the key, and tossing it away.

  Be happy?

  But what about him?

  Chapter Three

  “Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of intelligence.” —Edgar Allen Poe

  King

  I’m an idiot.

  Like a complete idiot.

  I have nothing coursing through my veins… unless you measure the blood and ask how much of it pumps for her, burns for her.

  I have zero things left in my arsenal.

  So I give up.

  No, fuck that, I don’t give up.

  I give her what she needs, what she says she wants.

  My soul feels like it’s scraping my insides as I watch her walk out of my house, the house I’ll most likely inherit when I become the new Capo. Del strolls outside like my heart isn’t ready to snap like a rubber band in my chest, slamming against my insides, causing internal bleeding.

  She looks up, and her green-eyed gaze takes in the stars while I watch like a complete fool. My body tells me that she wants me. My heart tells me that we have a chance.

  My brain, however, jolts us back into the reality we now live in.

  I’ll marry her because that’s my duty as the next Capo of these Families But love? It was never for me, and why should it be? What amazing thing have I done to deserve to have the sort of love my cousins have? My best friends? They all sacrificed. And this? This is being fucking handed to me on a silver platter with gold oven mitts and diamond-encrusted decorations.

  It’s not the same.

  Not that I want it to be.

  Maybe I just thought my journey would still include something—epic.

  I almost laugh because yeah, bullshit, I’m literally hiding behind a giant-assed oak tree watching Del like a friggin’ stalker as she looks up at the sky while Roman comes up behind her.

  I keep my growl back.

  Not gonna turn into a werewolf, so why worry everyone that I’m going crazy as he wraps his arms around her middle, resting his chin on her head.

  My hands shake at my sides as her smile matches his. I’m going through absolute hell while they experience heaven.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and try to take a few deep breaths. I’m the next Capo, after all. I can’t be weak or show weakness, so I know I only have a few human moments left before I give them my back while they most likely kiss under the stars, and I walk back into the house to do my job.

  My job is my life now.

  My lover.

  My past, present, future.

  She’s just a girl I’ll put a ring on and smile with during family dinner while everyone else has kids, experiences passion, fights, chaos—I’ll sit there with a perfect smile on my face and pretend that everything’s perfect.

  And at night, I’ll stupidly dream of a world where the person I married looks at me the way I’ve always secretly looked at her.

  How fun.

  A future of self-inflicted torture.

  Can’t wait.

  Eyes still closed, Del stays that way like he’s her center when all I’ve ever wanted in the last six months is to take that position away from him, even though I know I haven’t earned it.

  Does it matter, though? In the end? When she’s his? He’s hers?

  No. Every part of my body tells me no. Even the beat of my stupid heart seems to take up the cadence.

  Nope. Doesn’t matter.

  Because no matter how many gifts I shower her with, how many compliments, the heart wants what it wants.

  Mine wants hers.

  Hers wants his.

  Five seconds.

  Four.

  Three.

  Two.

  I smile and lower my head, then I give them the privacy they deserve. Her and her bodyguard.

  “Keep her safe,” I whisper. “With your life, Roman.”

  And I hear the whisper of his promise in the wind answering, “I will.”

  Chapter Four

  “Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.” —Edgar Allen Poe

  Del

  I’ve grown up knowing I’d eventually be a pawn. I don’t hate my family; I just don’t love them either.

  But Roman, Roman’s always been there for me since the beginning of me attempting to go against my father. It’s been months, and it feels like years.

  Now he’s here with me. Seriously? As my personal bodyguard? For King to do that, knowing what I know about him…

  I shake my head as Roman rests his chin on top of it. “We should go in soon.”

  His whisper wraps around me just like his arms. I feel safe, secure, beautiful as I exhale and enjoy the moment. “I know.”

  “It was kind of him,” he finally says.

  I don’t want to talk about King because then I feel guilty. He’s strong, one of the strongest guys I’ve ever met other than Roman, so part of me feels horrible that his new reality is watching the man I love stand by my side even after King says his vows to keep me forever.

  I’m resolute, though.

  I’ve sacrificed everything for this family, for this life. I’m going to keep this one thing for me, especially since my fiancé freely gave it.

  King’s gaze has always been filled with lust, with barely restrained passion. I always chalked it up to the fact that he slept with everyone that gave him a sidelong glance. Then, when I got to know him, I found out that there was so much more beneath the surface.

  We all have a freaking part to play.

  And he plays his beautiful
ly. One might say he acts like a playboy during the day and a monster at night. And they’d be correct.

  The first time I saw him come home with blood on his hands, I did a double-take. The bosses were all sitting around for a quick meeting.

  His dad, Tex, the Capo, stood and simply asked, “Is it done?”

  “I need a drink.” King winked and then slammed a bloodied knife onto the table in front of everyone. Even my uncle jumped. “Oh yeah, and it’s done. Took a few minutes, though, to get some of those fucking bones broken but he’s very cheerfully stuffed into a suitcase with a one-way ticket to the bottom of Lake Michigan.”

  “Damn.” Phoenix had chuckled under his breath—the man never chuckled.

  And once again, the Five Families proved to the ones trickling in from Italy—mine included, the Buratti Family—that they meant business and that if we wanted any part of what they had…

  Sacrifices must be made.

  Me included.

  I shudder.

  “Are you cold?” Roman asks.

  “No, no.” I lick my lips and think back on that moment again.

  King’s green eyes had met mine with raw lust; everything had slipped from his gaze as he looked, as he wanted, as he told me with his eyes that the best way to end that night would be with me naked and screaming beneath him.

  His lips curled up into an amused smile before he crooked his finger toward me.

  I followed, like an idiot, down the hall.

  We walked until we came to one of the many large guest rooms.

  He’d closed the door behind him, locking us in. “You were staring.”

  “I-I was curious.” I licked my dry lips again, lying through my teeth. I knew this guy; I worked with him. It was my job to infiltrate. But this, this felt different. “You know who I am.”

  “I know who you are,” he snapped back, his expression hard. “The question is, do you know who I am, who I really fucking am, Del?”

  “The heir.”

  “Fucking royalty.” He was trying to scare me, his typical MO. I lifted my chin. His smile was more amused than angry. “Not that you care.”

  “Couldn’t give a shit,” I said out of the blue.

  He barked out a laugh. “And yet I feel like servants should always bow… maybe it’s just me, but isn’t that… respectful?”

  My breath hitched.

  Roman. Think about Roman.